


...and the world moves on

by BarPurple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, And not worse, Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, Humor, I promise that the child abuse is at Harry Potter Levels, Major character death - Freeform, RCIJ 2018, Swearing, kid!Rumple, kid!belle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: In 1981 the threat of You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters was looming large over the wizarding world. While Vold... well you know who I mean, took the headlines there were plenty of other stories happening. And some of those stories changed the world in ways that Vol..erm yeah him, would never have dared to dream about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> RCIJ for anonymousnerdgirl. Prompts Hogwarts AU, angst, humour, McGonagall
> 
> I promise that while this fic starts grim it does get happier :)

Nosty shivered. It had been a bloody awful day. Horrible creeping fog that soaked a body in fucking minutes. The stupid weather was setting everyone on edge. The rozzers were freer with their fists and more likely to drag folks to the nick for fuck all, and the wankers at the shelters were enforcing all the poxy rules; kicking a man out in this weather for a bit o’swearing, fucking inhuman that was. Even his boys were getting tetchy. Thank fuck his boys were piss easy to entertain.

The all-night cafe was barely full enough to make this worthwhile, but the boys need to blow off steam. They’d cause a bit of chaos, nick a few wallets and Nosty would get a warm bed for the night, not too shabby for a bit of pain. The quacks might be able to give him some decent meds this time. He’d been seeing some fucking weird shite the past few months; flying things in cloaks, green lights in the sky, and that odd bloke in a pointy hat who walked through the window of an old department store. All fucked up stuff that couldn’t be real. Nosty was crazy, but he knew flying motorbikes were real.

To be honest he’d done this trick so often now the nerves in his shoulder were well fucked. The punters were nervously eying his boys as he swiped a bottle off the counter and took a swig. Bossman behind the counter was flapping his gums shouting some shite. Nosty ignored him and shattered the bottle on the edge of a table.

“Hari Kari for the boys!”

The jagged end of the bottle went into his shoulder at speed. He didnae really feel it until he fell backwards and thumped his head off the grotty tiles. He heard his boys scarper and someone was shouting about an ambulance. Fucking good too, this floor was disgusting, there were mouldy crumbs crusted under the edge of the counter, had this bastard never heard of a broom?

“No! Don’t touch him. He might have something.”

Cheeky fucker, I’ve no even got the clap. Nosty tried to form the words but his mouth felt mushy. The cafe was all grey, fog must’ve got in. Funny that fog and thunder. A blinding flash of lightening made the whole room go white.

“I think it’s too late.”

The wee lassie sounded sad, nice of her to be concerned for the likes o’him.

Nosty blinked; “Dinae worry lassie, ambulance always turns up in time.”

“There was an explosion about an hour ago up in Whitehall, was on the news, not a chance an ambulance is going to get here now.”

Bossman sounded disgusted, well he was used to that from people, and that dirty wanker had no right to sneer. Environmental Health might pay a concerned citizen who expressed their doubts about the cleanliness o’this place. Nice way to make a bit o’cash while he was in hospital. Nosty sniffed and ambled over to the window. Rozzers were flying past all lights flashing and sirens blaring. Something big had happened then.

Wait a fucking minute, when had he stood up?

“We should cover him up with something.”

“I’ll get a tablecloth.”

Very slowly Nosty turned on his heel. Bossman and a pretty lassie were standing on the edge of a fucking huge puddle of blood. They shifted and Nosty saw himself lying on the floor. The bottle was still in his shoulder, his face was pale, and his eyes were staring up at the ceiling. He started laughing, that couldn’t be him on the floor there. He was standing right here, solid as yer please. Laughing like a loon he backed away and found himself stood outside the window.

He’d just walk through the glass. He reached forward and pushed his hand clean through the solid pane. What the fucking hell was going on? Balling his hand into a fist he punched the glass. The momentum carried him forward and he stumbled into the cafe again. If finally dawned on him that his hand looked wrong, he’d always been pale but never pearly white. Looking down the rest of him was the same pasty colour, clothes and all. He looked like a fucking ghost.

“What have yer done ta me ya bastard! Hey fuckface! Listen ta me!”

Bossman didnae react at all. Neither did the lassie, she didnae cringe or look appalled at his outburst. It was her lack of reaction that convinced him they couldnae see or hear him.

A fucking ghost.

Nosty crouched down, not noticing that he was floating several inches off the floor and wrapped his arms across his chest. He was dead. That was his dead body cooling like a fucking lump of meat a few feet away. Dead. And a ghost.

The cafe owner stuck a finger in his ear and wriggled it around. All the sirens must be giving him tinnitus; just for a moment there he was sure he’d heard someone laughing hysterically.

 

Belle was skipping to keep up with Papa. He was upset about the Tube being cancelled because of the people in cloaks. She was glad they were getting away from them because they were odd, and Papa didn’t like odd. Belle rather liked some of their cloaks, they looked swishy and warm, but she knew better than to say that out loud.

Outside a cafe she noticed her shoelace was undone.

“Hold on Papa.”

He slowed and stood huffing as he waited for her to tie it. As she stood up something silver caught her eye.

“Papa why is that shiny man crying?”

His eyes bulged when he looked to where she was pointing. With fast strides he hurried back to her and grabbed her wrist in his hand. Belle yelped, but Papa just dragged her along the street and around the corner.

He shoved her against the wall and bent down to jab a thick finger in her face.

“I’ve told you before. You see anything abnormal like shiny silver men and you ignore it. You don’t look at it. You don’t talk about it. It never happened. Understand?”

Belle gave him a shaky nod. Papa shook her shoulder hard and her head bumped off the wall behind her.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes Papa! I’m sorry.”

Moe French stomped away down the street, cursing under his breath. Belle took a deep breath and trailed after him, making sure to keep out of swinging distance.


	2. Chapter 2

Fiona Gold wrinkled her nose at today’s Prophet headline. That muggle-loving fool, Dumbledore had been made Minister of Magic. The Dark Lord had said that this would be the result of last week’s attack on the Ministry. He knew all and predicting how these blood traitors and mudbloods would panic and flap was an easy task for one as great as He.

With a flick of her wand she opened the paper, not wanting to soil her hands with the filthy lies they printed.

“I take it they are clueless.”

She smiled at her husband’s words. Malcolm had been spectacular during the attack, revelling in the chaos they had been ordered to cause.

“Of course. They are claiming the assault failed and that the Ministry was not penetrated.”

Malcolm chuckled; “Well that was the plan. Are they weeping over the muggles?”

She scanned the text and smirked; “Rending of garments and tearing of hair, an impassioned plea that the duty of the magical community is to protect all life. Honestly this gushing over muggles is an embarrassment to wizard kind.”

A commotion in the hall interrupted their perusal of the so-called facts. Fiona’s mouth thinned into a tight line as Rumple stumbled into the room. Had she not given birth to him she’d suspect that Rumple was no child of hers. At nearly seven years old he’d displayed next to nothing in the way of magical ability. They had kept him at home as much as possible, so if he did turn out to be a Squib then there would be less questions to answer about his disappearance.

He was out of breath and looking from her to his father with excited shining eyes. He wiggled from foot to foot like an ill-train puppy, Fiona tightened her grip on her wand as the idea of immobilising him until he learnt to conduct himself with dignity flittered across her mind. There was something squirming in his hands.

“What have you got there?”

“It’s a snake and I can talk to it!”

She shared a look with Malcom over Rumple’s head. He was looking as intrigued as she was feeling. If this were true, if Rumple could speak Parseltongue. She took a slow breath, they mustn’t get ahead of themselves.

“Show us.”

With a foolish grin Rumple started clicking and chirping at the reptile. Fiona recoiled. She was not blessed with Salazar Slytherin’s gift, but she had heard the Dark Lord speak to snakes and this was not Parseltongue. Her disgust increased when the ‘snake’ in his hands blinked at her.

Malcolm flourished his wand producing a coil of smoke the solidified into a large python. Fiona grit her teeth as Rumple cringed from the true symbol Slytherin.

“Can you understand this snake? Well! Can you laddie?”

Rumple shook his head. Malcolm rolled his eyes and vanished the python.

“Of course not! Because that was a snake and that thing is a pathetic legless lizard!”

With a flick of her own wand Fiona dragged the lizard from Rumple’s hands and hurled it into the empty fireplace. She gasped in shock as Rumple launched himself at her and grabbed her wand hand.

“Stop it! You’re hurting her!”

Malcolm caught him by the collar of his robes and shook him hard.

“How dare you lay hands on your mother like that. You ungrateful beast!”

Fiona smoothed her sleeve and jabbed her wand at the fireplace. The lizard burst into flame, and Rumple burst into ugly sobs. Malcolm shook him again.

“Halt your blubbering laddie. Listen to your mother.”

She waited until Rumple reduced his cries to hiccupping sniffles. She could barely bring herself to look at him.

“You will not reveal this perversion of magic to anyone. Lizards are not worthy creatures to converse with. I am very disappointed in you Rumple. Now clean up that mess and go to your room. You will stay out of our sight for the rest of the day.”

Malcolm released his grip on his collar and Rumple dropped to the floor in a shaking heap.

“Get up laddie! You are a son of the noble pure blood houses of Gold and Black, you will damn well act like it even if you are a ruddy Squib.”

He offered his hand to Fiona and they swept out of the room together. Rumple wiped his face on his sleeve and crawled across the fireplace. The charred remains of the lizard brought fresh tears to his eyes, and he bit his lips to let them fall silently.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen. You were trying to tell me you weren’t a snake. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to die.”

He shuddered as he thought about the twisted sneer on his parents face as the lizard burned. That had scared him more than the lizard’s screams of pain. It had looked like they enjoyed hurting it. Half an hour ago he had been excited that he was finally proving he was a wizard. Now the thought of having magic like his parents turned his stomach. He sniffed and dried his face again.

With numb hands he picked up the dustpan and carefully scooped up the remains of the lizard. He wold bury her in the flowerbed where he had found her. If being a wizard meant enjoying hurting defenceless creatures than he was glad he was a Squib.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle dawdled behind the others as they left the classroom at the end of school. All anyone had talked about all week was Clare’s birthday party tomorrow. Claire’s birthday was on the thirty-first, so each year her parents threw a spectacular Halloween themed party for her. This year Claire was eleven, so the party was going to be even bigger than last year.

Belle wasn’t invited, she never was, who would want the odd bookworm at their party? She supposed it didn’t help that she wouldn’t be having a party for her birthday. How could she? Papa didn’t like people in the house when he was sober, and she didn’t want anyone else to see how he was when he was drunk.

She looked at the cracked face of her watch and sighed. She needed to put some more Sellotape over the face, so water couldn’t get in and stop the hands. It was lucky that it worked at all after Papa had stepped on it. Papa would be home at six o’clock and would expect her to have made dinner. Nobody else at school had to cook for their parents. It was just another thing that Belle didn’t talk about, just like she never talked about Papa’s drinking, or how he’d hit her when he got angry.

It had been years since Belle had made him really angry, but there were plenty of other things that made Papa’s temper flare; the rent being due, the dog he’d bet on not winning, that he run out of whiskey. Most of the time she could sense when he was going to lose his temper and got out of the way, so she didn’t often have to hide bruises anymore.

There was time for her to go to the library and get a new book before she headed home. Mrs Pince was always pleased to see her. They would talk about the books Belle had borrowed and what else she wanted to read. The library was warm and safe, and sometimes Mrs Pince would have these odd biscuits, like gingernuts but shaped like lizards. 

When she reached the library door she stopped, the joyful smile slipping from her face because of the prickly feeling on the back of her neck. She quickly turned around and instantly spotted the silvery man standing on the other side of the road. He was harder to see in the weak October sunlight, but his matted braids and heavy boots were clear enough, and if she looked hard enough she could see silvery trails around the hole in the shoulder of his jacket that she recognized as blood for shiny people like him. There was something familiar about him, but she tried very hard to act as if she couldn’t see him. Papa was very clear that she had to ignore things like this, that they were bad and wrong. It wasn’t just the silvery people, there were buildings she had to pretend she couldn’t see, and the people in cloaks and odd hats. She did her best, Papa hadn’t caught her staring at the bad things in ages, but the questions she wanted to ask burned within her.

She turned around and pulled open the library door. Everything inside was nice and normal and wouldn’t get her into trouble


	4. Chapter 4

Nosty drifted across the road heedless of the cars that drove right through him. This he had got used to fast. He was young as far as being a ghost went, only three years dead. And it had been a right busy three years. All the trouble with the Ministry of Magic in his first couple of months; how was he supposed to bloody know that he had to ‘register’, he’d no even known there was a fucking Ministry of Magic until he croaked. He’d scared the shite out of that pink toad they’d sent to tell him off. From what he’d heard she couldnae hear a Scottish accent these days without piddling herself.

O’course that had caused him more trouble. Nick the Neck had been sent to talk to him after that and he werenae too bad, bit of a stick up his arse, but Nosty guessed that came o’being nearly four hundred years old and havin a name like de Mimsy-Porpington. He’d no really listen to Nick the Neck’s warnings about the trouble he was getting himself into. Hadnae listen to anyone until the Headmistress came along.

Minerva McGonagall was a proper no nonsense lady. She didnae talk shite and wouldnae take any shite from nobody. Had told him straight that the Ministry were ready to take action against him and was unimpressed with his attempts to scare her. She’d got this wicked wee twinkle in her eyes when he’d pointed out that his tricks had scared that Umbridge woman, then shocked the fuck out of him by offering him a job.

Even more shocking was that he’d agreed, which is why he was following this wee lassie around like some sort of fucking stalker. Thing is he was perfectly placed to follow kids that the Ministry’s Muggleborn Detection Spell identified as witches and wizards, since only magic folk could see ghosts. Plus having never realized that he was a bloody wizard meant that he didnae spook the kids by babbling about Hogwarts right off the bat like that idiot Diggle had.

He’d come to terms with the fact he’d been a wizard all his life, but never found out until after he died. There’d been no Hogwarts letter for him because of the meds the doctors had put him on. His parents had thought they were doing the right thing, what else do you do when you know fuck all about magic and your kid starts babbling about gnomes and animals changing into people? He’d been on his own for so long he didnae blame his ma and da anymore. They had tried, it werenae their fault that the best they could do had sent him bat shite crazy. He’d no gone to visit their graves after he’d died, there wasnae point, they werenae there.

His drifting had brought him to the Leaky Cauldron where Minerva was waiting for him.

“Ah there you are Nosty. Have you spoken to her yet?”

“Nope, not yet, she’s still acting like she cannae see me, but she can I’m certain of it.”

Minerva dug through the scrolls of parchment on the table; “Madam Pince reports the same thing, she is sure that the girl in a witch, but says she closes down in the face of magic.”

Nosty floated around the table, he always thought better when he was moving. A scraggly bearded wizzard in a faded red robe shuddered as his pacing took him right through him.

“I reckon that’s her da’s doing. Think he can see me too, gets right pis.. annoyed when he does.”

A proper lady was the Headmistress and yer didnae swear in front of a proper lady. Good thing he couldnae bite through his tongue anymore ‘cause it would’ve been bloody mess the amount of times he hadtae catch hiself afore he said sumthin’ rude.

Minerva sniffed; “Yes, well thanks to something that St Mungo’s has finally decided to divulge I believe I know the reason behind that reaction.”

He knew that tone, Minerva was royally pissed off at someone. Nosty settled himself cross-legged in the air and waited, it was always fun to hear about some scunner upsetting Minerva, and if they’d gone so far as to insult her they’d end up with a wee visit from him to remind them of their manners.

Minerva sipped her gillywater and sighed; “It turns out that both of Miss French’s parents are Squibs.”

“Thought they were like rare.”

“So, the Ministry would have had us believe. Albus has managed to encourage some families to share records with the Ministry so we have an idea of where these Squibs are now, but it’s going to take a very long time to overcome the idea that a Squib in the family is somehow shameful.

Both Maurice and Colette left their families when they were teenagers. They’d had no further contact with the wizarding world until five years ago when Maurice took Colette to St Mungo’s.”

Nosty had a nasty idea as to when this was going. There’d be no happy ending, of that he was sure.

“Colette was sick. Very sick, but since the illness was not of a magical nature and had not been caused by a witch or wizard St Mungo’s refused to treat her. Maurice caused quite the kerfuffle as security escorted them out, broke a nose, blacked an eye and drew the attention of Muggle policemen.”

“Didnae they,” – Nosty twirled a finger in imitation of a wand, - “memory zap them?”

“The policemen yes, but they couldn’t do that to the Frenches. They had been raised by magical families it would be impossible to safely remove all of those memories. Especially with Colette being as ill as she was.” – Minerva heaved a sigh, the pain of the past writ large on her features, - “There were arguments for months in the Ministry as to whether or not a Squib such as Colette should receive treatment, by the time they had decided it was too late.”

Nosty rocked backwards, sending his matted braids through the wizard in faded red. The wizard shivered and shunted his chair further away from the careless ghost.

“Maurice is no gonna be happy when you turn up to explain his wee lassie is a full-blown witch.”

Minerva gathered up her scrolls and prepared to leave; “No, I can’t imagine that he will be. Under normal circumstances I would speak with Mr French today, there are only a few weeks until Belle’s eleventh birthday and I do not want to send an owl in there blind if I can possibly help it. As it is Albus is concerned about this weekend.”

Nosty cocked his head to one side but kept stum. He didnae care one way or the other if the Minister for Magic was concerned, but that look on Minerva’s face told him that she was worried, and she only got the wee crease between her brows if it were sumthin’ to do with Voldemort. Ole Snakeface had been gaining momentum lately. Not as fast as he might have liked, thanks to Dumbledore’s open approach his misinformation hadn’t worked as well as he would have wanted.

“Stay out of trouble this weekend, Nosty.”

He waved absently at Minerva’s warning, further irritating the wizard behind him as his hand disappeared into his glass of Fire Whiskey. The wizard heaved a sigh and went to the bar for a fresh glass since the icy touch of Nosty’s ghostly hand had removed all of the heat from the drink.

Nosty barely noticed the Fire Whiskey drinking wizard squawk as he drifted out of the pub through him. It was Halloween tomorrow. It had never meant much to Nosty, always struck him as one o’those thing made up by big companies to sell a ton of tat and sweets. When he was breathing it was just another fucking cold night where yer had ta balance rolling the drunks for their wallets and getting in ta a shelter early. The past few years he’d dropped by Hogwarts and caused a bit o’mischeif with Peeves.

Tonight, the idea that Ole Snakeface was planning something was getting right under his skin. In a round-about sort of way it was Voldemort’s fault that he’d bled out on that cafe floor. The explosion that had delayed the ambulance wasnae a gas leak like the muggle papers reported, it had been the Death Eaters attacking the Ministry of Magic. There was still no explanation as to why they had done it, well none that anyone was telling Nosty. For all that Dumbledore had ushered in a new open approach as Minister of Magic he still played somethings very close to the chest, he’d be a fool not to. As batty as the old man was he was naebody’s fool.

Without meaning to he’d made his way back to the library where Belle was doing her homework. The chances of Snakeface going after a ten-year-old muggleborn were slim to none, but as he watched her wave goodbye to the librarian Nosty decided that the best thing he could do this weekend was keep an eye on her.

Madam Pince smiled as Nosty blinked from sight. It was clear he was following young Belle. As rough and uncouth as Nosty was he had a good soul. Belle was in need of a friend and Nosty could be that for her, if she was willing to let him be.

She glanced around and saw the street was empty. A wave of her wand locked the library door and she apparited to Middlesbrough to check in on the young muggleborn in Father MacAvoy’s care.


	5. Chapter 5

Although no one walking along the lane by the old farmhouse outside of the village would be able to tell there was an argument going on inside. To be frank, only persons of a magical persuasion would have been able to see that the farmhouse was inhabited at all. Muggles would have simply looked at a tumbledown structure and briefly wondered why no one had pulled the ramshackle building down yet before hurrying on their way. For the child who had called that place home for the past ten years the argument going in the dining room beneath his bedroom was very real.

They were still shouting. Mother and Father had started arguing over dinner, thankfully they hadn’t noticed when Rumple had slipped away to his room after he’d finished the washing-up. They had ignored him for days now, so caught up in their ire at the Ministry and the recent plans of the Dark Lord.

Rumple curled into a ball against his headboard and stared out of the window. The Dark Lord was perfection embodied for his parents, but the very mention of the wizard terrified Rumple. His pure blood would offer him no place in the world the Dark Lord strived to create. There would be no place of honour for a Squib in the new order, no matter how noble his heritage.

Father liked to remind him that when the Dark Lord took over he’d be lucky if he was allowed to work as a caretaker, like Filtch did at Hogwarts; ‘Nothing more than a House Elf that man. I’d not be surprised if the House Elves look down on him, as well they should, aping their work without even basic magic.’ For all Father’s derision Rumple still wondered if Mr Filtch would need an apprentice, it might be the only way he’d ever get to see the great wizarding school.

A loud crash sounded from downstairs and he heard Mother yell; “…ridiculous! You’re not thinking Malcolm…”

The rage in his Mother’s voice made him tense, but he tried to quell the urge to hide under the blankets. If Mother or Father found him ‘cowering’ he would be in serious trouble. He couldn’t face another night in the dark cold cellar. A real child of the noble houses of Black and Gold would be able to conjure light and warmth for himself in the cellar. A real son of Malcolm Gold wouldn’t need to be punished so frequently for being a coward. A real son of Fiona Black wouldn’t be a disgrace to the name of wizard.

Since his ill-fated discovery of being able to speak with lizards Rumple had been treated with indifference and scorn by his parents. As far as he was concerned indifference was good.

When Mother and Father were in a bad mood they would hand him an old wand and force him to try magic. He could never produce the simplest of spell, which resulted in them laughing and mocking him if he was lucky and blasting him across the room if he wasn’t. It was painful and humiliating, but it was better than the days when Mother and Father would bring a lizard into the house and torture it, knowing full well that Rumple could understand every one of the poor creature’s pleas and screams. The lizard’s cries made him sick to his stomach, but so did the taunts from Mother and Father, ‘Use magic and you can save it’, ‘A basic shield charm, boy!’ he felt so worthless, unable to save the poor creature, and too cowardly to offer himself in it’s place. 

On days when his parents chose to ignore him he was free to read and listen to the school lessons on the radio. The Ministry had recently begun offering educational programs for under-elevens on all manner of subjects. He followed along with the magical theory ones, but he really enjoyed the Muggle lessons. The ones hosted by Mr Weasley were interesting, all about electricity, plugs and cars. His favourites were the ones about sports; football was something he liked.

Sometimes he slipped out of the house to the Muggle village. He was trying to learn as much about Muggle life as possibly, especially since he’d overheard his parents saying that if he didn’t get a Hogwarts letter on his next birthday they would send him away. A witch dressed in blue had visited the house a few times to discuss what to do with him. He’d not liked her much, there was a nasty cold look in her eyes even when she was smiling.

He guessed he’d be sent to live with muggles. He didn’t think that would be so bad, the children in the village played football and looked happy, some of them even let him join in their games when they need someone to play in goal.

“…much of a risk, Fiona!”

He drew his knees up tighter to his chest. Tomorrow would be a difficult day, it often was after Mother and Father had argued. He’d told the last lizard he found in the garden that this wasn’t a safe place. Mother and Father could conjure a lizard if they wanted, but he’d done his best to warn any that might stray close to their house.

He often wondered if muggle parents argued so much, he didn’t think so, or if they did there was no chance of them throwing spells at the furniture and crockery. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken up to find a dustpan and brush sitting outside his room, practice for when he became a servant Father said.

It was late, almost midnight, he needed to get some sleep, so he wasn’t a shambling zombie come the morning, (another thing he could get in trouble for). The shouting had dropped to a murmur. He eased himself under the blankets and closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep he let himself pretend that Mother and Father were up late planning a Halloween treat for him. It was a nice, if foolish, dream.

 

Fiona took Malcom’s hand as they walked down the garden path to the edge of their property. They had exchanged heated words about the course of action they were taking, but now they were of one mind.

That they would join the Dark Lord in his assault on those who presented a danger to him was never in question, it was Rumple that had as ever been the stumbling block. Taking him with them was not an option, and events had moved so quickly there was no time to take advantage of Madam Bleu’s discreet service.

So far, they had successfully kept his embarrassing status as a Squib a secret, but the other Death Eaters would spot it in an instant. The sneering from cousin Bellatrix would be unbearable. The Dark Lord, well he might solve the problem for them with a flick of his wand, but the fact that they hadn’t would lower their standing in his eyes.

A Killing Curse would solve all of their problems, but the Dark Lord had instructed them not to do anything that might draw the Ministry’s attention and they had already come under scrutiny for killing a damn lizard. That the Ministry dared to presume it could dictate what spells a pure blood witch and wizard could cast in their own home would have been enough to make them root for the Dark Lord’s cause had they not already been Death Eaters.

Eventually they had decided to simply leave Rumple for a few days, it wasn’t the first time they had gone away without telling him, the boy did alright on his own. It was a shame he’d never had the backbone to run away and save them the magic needed to be rid of him for good. By tomorrow night there would be a new world order and they could return to the house and deal with him. None would dare to condemn them for unburdening themselves of a worthless child, after all the Dark Lord encouraged them to prune the rot and dead weight from their family trees.

Without a backward glance they aapparited away to assist the Dark Lord in his destiny.

Rumple stirred in his sleep a smile spreading across his face as he dreamed of being at Hogwarts, learning magic with a lizard friend. In the morning he would not remember the dream, but for now he slept on happy and unaware of the upheaval the first days of November wold bring.


	6. Chapter 6

Rumple woke to a silent house. He sat up and cocked his head to one side. Nothing. A slight smile twitched his lips. Mother and Father had gone out as they did sometimes after an argument. If he was fortunate they would likely be gone for most of the day. He threw back the blankets and swung his feet out of bed. He tiptoed to the bathroom and still heard no hint of his parents.

After he’d gotten dressed he did all of his chores as fast as he could. There were scrolls on the dining table, but he left those exactly where they were. Father got very annoyed when he messed with his paperwork.

Mother and Father’s traveling cloaks were missing from the hall cupboard. They normally only took those when they would be away for a long time. He raced back upstairs pulling his robes over his head as he went. From the back of his bottom dresser drawer he pulled his best muggle clothes. The jumper was faded, and the cord trousers had a hole in the right knee, but they were no worse than the village children wore. He changed and then dithered for a moment, the thin denim jacket he’d found left on the playground wouldn’t be warm enough for today. It was Halloween, he could wear his cloak and if anyone asked he’d say it was part of his costume.

Pleased with his plan he ran down the stairs making far more noise than he ever would have dared if his parents had been home.

Halfway down the lane from their house to the village there was a chestnut tree, inside a hollow formed by its gnarled roots was a battered ginger newt tin. This battered tin held Rumple’s most prized possessions; the yo-yo he’d been given by Robbie, (one of the muggle boys in the village), a Glasgow Rangers scarf he’d found caught in a hedge that he’d carefully repaired, and best of all his little horde of muggle money.

The little metal discs made sense, they were different, but close enough to knuts and sickles for him to recognize them as money, it was the paper ‘notes’ that had confused him at first. He’d found a ‘fiver’ dropped on the street outside the Rose and Crown pub, and a nice muggle lady had given him a pound note when he’d stopped her dog running into the road. He’d been hoarding this money, but today he was going to treat himself to a cooked breakfast at the café.

Agatha and Ethel, the ladies in the café were nice. He’d thought they were sisters at first, but then he had seen them kissing and Robbie had laughed and said they were lesbians. That had confused him until Robbie had explained that they were like his oldest sister and her girlfriend. Rumple had heard some of the people in the café use some other words for them, and Robbie had told him to gob in their tea because they were nasty words. Rumple hadn’t had to do that yet, but he had sworn to Robbie that he would because Robbie’s sister and her girlfriend were cool and so were the ladies in the café in an old person kind of way.

Agatha and Ethel had an odd way of finishing each other’s sentences, which was a bit strange until you had got used to them. The café had a spinning wheel in the corner that one or the other would be using during quiet times. He pushed the door open that Saturday and was greeted by the sound of frying bacon and the creaking of the spinning wheel.

“Hello Rumple, that’s a…”

“…very fine cloak you are wearing.”

He stammered out his planned reason for having it on.

“Well, that is grand you…”

“…make a fine wizard.”

He blushed and twirled a bit for them as he asked for a small breakfast. Ethel took the money from him and gave him change as Agatha shooed him to a table. The plate they brought him was not a small breakfast.

“Oh, hush you’re a growing boy. I bet…”

“… you’ll clean the plate and if you want seconds…”

“…they are on the house for such a fine young man, or rather...”

“… a fine young wizard.”

They didn’t know, but their words gave him a little glow of joy. Wouldn’t it be grand if one day he was a real wizard and he could come back and tell them how they had given him hope and courage? He stomped on the daft idea and attacked the bacon and beans on his plate.

Somebody had left a newspaper, so as he ate he read about the hopes for Rangers match later that day. Afterwards he went to the park. Even on this chilly Saturday there were people out walking their dogs and some lads kicking a ball around. He looked for Robbie, but then remember that his family were spending this holiday with his relatives in America. Robbie was going to fly on an aeroplane. Rumple had learned about them from Mr Weasley’s lessons on the radio, they sounded awesome.

A few of the kids playing football waved at him, but he was feeling too stuffed from his breakfast to join in. Besides, with the park this empty the swings were free, and he didn’t often have the chance to use them. He sat kicking his feet lazily back and forth. The creak of the chains mingled with the shouts of offside and the odd bark of the dogs around the park.

Around lunchtime it started to rain, and everyone hurried to leave the park. Rumple sighed, he would rather not go home just yet, but getting soaked was no fun. He trudged back up the lane and hid the muggle money back in his tin. He wasn’t too good with the cost of things in muggle money, but he was sure he had more change than he should have. Agatha and Ethel were very kind.

As he shoved the battered tin back into the gap under the roots a shadow passed over him. Rumple froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Just a cloud, or a bird, might even be a cat in the tree at a stretch.

The soft bark and whoosh of hot breath across the back of his neck destroyed his attempts to reassure himself. He kept very still. From somewhere behind him he heard a confused growl. Still he didn’t move. After a long terrifying moment there was a huffing sound and heavy footfalls moving away from him.

He turned around very slowly and saw a giant bear-like dog padding up the lane towards his house. A whimper escaped his throat and the dog turned around sharply. It stared in his direction and tilted its head. He was about to be mauled by a giant dog and he was too terrified to run. The dog didn’t pounce, in fact it seemed to be looking everywhere but at him. He watched as the dog shrugged and lopped off up the lane. He’d never seen a dog shrug before, could dogs shrug? He didn’t know, but one thing he was certain of was that he wasn’t going home just yet, not while that giant brute was lurking around. He pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders and curled up at the foot of the chestnut tree. The bare branches did nothing to keep the rain off him, but the trunk stopped most of the wind from biting through him.


	7. Chapter 7

At the gates to the Gold house Sirius stretched and changed back into human form. He’d seen someone down the lane by that tree, he knew he had. The glimpse he’d got made him think it was the Gold boy, but he wasn’t even at Hogwarts yet and word was that he was a sickly child. At least that was the excuse Fiona and her slimy husband gave for not allowing the boy to attend the pre-Hogwarts lessons. Personally, he didn’t trust a single thing his darling cousin Fiona said, the boy looked healthy enough to him, scared of course, but that was probably his fault. He really needed to stop approaching people in dog form, or get a fluffy collar or something to make him look less scary. He snorted to himself, he’d had to remember to tell Prongs and Moony about that when he saw them tonight, it would give them both a good laugh.

If that was the Gold boy then he must have a Disillusionment charm on his cloak, because he had just popped out of sight. Odd of his darling cousin to let such powerful magic out of her hands, maybe she cared for her son more that he thought she did. He’d mention it to Dumbledore when he made his report, for now he had to snoop on the Golds.

The binoculars Dumbledore had created were based on Mad-Eye’s eye, they gave the user the ability to see through most enchantments and protection spells. They did tend to give you a headache, but they’d discovered that the affects were minimal if the user was an Animagus, so he’d spent a fair bit of the past few weeks spying on Death Eaters. Prongs took his turn, but he was needed at home more because of what they suspected was coming.

So far today Sirius had discovered that the Malfoys and Lestranges were away from home. There were countless innocent reasons for them being out, but they’d not been spotted in Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade. It was highly likely that he would find that Bellatrix and Narcissa had decided to visit Fiona, although that in itself would be far too many members of his twisted Voldemort obsessed family in one place for comfort.

The house was empty. Not a trace of Fiona and Malcolm anywhere. Sirius rubbed his eyes and checked the house again. On the dining room table there were scrolls that kept drawing his gaze. He had to twist his head to one side to be able to read Fiona’s scrawl.

“A powder, no, a power the Dank Load, wait those must be ‘r’s, so Dark Lord. A power the Dark Lord knows not.”

There was nothing strange about the Golds having that part of the prophecy. That little rat bastard Wormtail had confessed he’d passed on what he’d overheard in the Hoggs Head. Sirius growled softly to himself at the thought of his former friend’s cowardice. Wormtail had changed sides, only to switch back as soon as it looked like the Dark Lord wasn’t going to win. He was in hiding at the moment, under lock and key inside the Ministry.

There was something else that caught his eye on the parchments, something far more familiar than the half prophecy. He squinted and adjusted the binoculars. Oh no. By Merlin’s beard! How had they got those addresses?

Sirius thrust the binoculars into the pocket of his cloak and ran for the lane. After three strides he transformed, and the thudding of his boots became the scrabbling of paws as he adjusted to the sudden change in stride.

 

A very soggy half hour later Rumple watched the giant dog bounding down the lane towards the village. He waited ten more minutes to make sure that it wasn’t coming back and then eased himself up from the tree and stiffly started walking home.

The house was still empty. Deciding not to take any risks just in case Mother and Father arrived home soon Rumple hurried upstairs to change out of his muggle clothes. He had some crackers and cheese hidden in his room and a bottle of pumpkin juice as long as he kept the volume down he could listen to the radio. In fact, there was plenty of time before the school programs started he might be able to pick up some of the muggle football transmission. As long as he kept an ear out for Mother and Father coming home he’d be fine.


	8. Chapter 8

Nosty drifted invisibly along the streets avoiding the hen party who were all dressed as witches, as least what past as witches for muggles. He couldnae even imagine Minerva in a dress that short, or with that much of her tits on display for all the world ta see.

So far today he’d followed Belle and her da to a dodgy hock-shop and the dog track. Moe had made a pretty penny at the track and it looked like Belle had had fun, she’d certainly dug into her lunchtime burger with gusto. Thing is it was pushing nine at night now and they weren’t heading home.

The pounding music of the Parrot caught his attention. He’d never had a problem with the Devine, he was a wee angry Irish bastard, but he’d always pay a man for tipping him off about where a scunner who owed him money was lying low. This neck o’the woods was no place for a wee kiddie, and the Devine was tight as his suits on the rules for his club, nae way he’d let Belle inside.

Looks like Belle knew the drill, since she backed herself into a litter strewn doorway as her da made his way to the Parrot’s entrance. Moe’s hands were shaking as he hurried inside, that was either nerves at dealing with the Devine, or the shakes ‘cause he needed a drink. Either way leaving his wee lassie alone on this street was a shite thing to do.

There was no one around, might be an idea to let Belle see him. He let himself turn visible slowly, didnae want to fright her. She blinked and turned her head so she wasnae looking at him, but he could see the sly wee looks in his direction. He could work with that. He started floating around, moaning and groaning, pulling daft faces at the perverts who were slinking inta the Parrot. Belle didnae make a sound but he could see her shoulders shaking as she tried not to giggle.

“What’s your name, mister?”

Her sudden question surprised him so much he rolled half way into the wall. He just heard her faint giggle as he brushed his matted hair out of his face and settled cross-legged on the floor a few feet in front of her.

“I’m Nosty.”

“I’m Belle.”

She offered him her hand, did she no know he’d was icy cold? The poor thing was already shivering, the last thing she needed was a handshake from a ghost. He settled for waving at her and got a smile and a wave back.

“What’s yer da doing with a muggle like Danny?”

Belle gasped through chattering teeth; “I’m not allowed to use that word. Papa says it’s rude.”

He shrugged, wondering what the hell her da had told her. Mudblood, aye that were as foul as ye could get, but muggle? She stomped her feet against the cold and continued; “Papa’s got business with Mr Devine. He usually comes out and gives me bus fare, but he must have forgotten again. I just waited for a bit to see if he remembered before I walked home.”

That was a lie. Her da had been in there for at least twenty minutes and the Devine was wham-bam-get-the-feck-out once he had his money. Father of the bleeding year was in there ogling bare arse. What a scunner.

With what he’d won at the track today chances were Maurice Feckin’ French would be in there for hours. Hours where he apparently hadnae problem leaving his wee daughter to walk across half of fucking London to get home on her own.

“Yer want sumthin’ to eat, kid?”

She mumbled something about not having any money. Nosty grinned and floated upright so he was standing; “Nae worries, Tom’ll see ya right lassie.”

He floated a bit down the street and waited for her to follow. He couldnae force her, not that he would. Graham had been wary o’him too, but that lad had been on the streets for a few months before Nosty had found him, ya only survived if yer were shy with yer trust. Whatever Belle’s da had told her about the wizarding world had made her frit, but he was hoping it hadnae killed her curiosity.

Belle hesitated and glanced at the Parrot’s door. It swung open with some force and the bouncers chucked someone into the street. She relaxed a bit when she saw that the drunken git staggering to his feet wasn’t her da. She shook her head as she turned and jogged over to him.

They moved along without talking. The muggles around them would only see Belle talking to herself and that might call unwanted attention to them. Nosty knew he could scare the shite out of anyone, but some of his favourite haunting tricks might scare Belle as well, so best to keep their heads down for now.

When they turned in to a grubby and quiet alley Belle asked; “So, where are we going?”

“The Leaky Cauldron.”

She stumbled over her own feet with a squeak. Nosty lurched to catch her and swore to himself as she fell right through his arms. She landed heavily on her hands and hissed as she scrabbled to her feet. Shaking her head, she backed away, scared stiff and in a right panic.

“Papa says I’m not to even look at that place. He says it’s full of weirdos and bad people.”

She didn’t flinch when he drifted closer to her; “Yer da is full of shite, the Cauldron is a grand pub and I’ve friends there who’ll be able to feed you up,” – he glanced at the way she was cradling her hands to her chest and saw the holes in her gloves, blood was already seeping up from her palms and staining the cheap wool, - “And fix your hands up too.”

She bit her lip. If she decided to walk away from him there was bugger all he could do to stop her. Fat drops of rain splattered from the sky and gave him an idea.

“Despite the name the pub’s warm and dry, yer ken?”

That got him a tiny smile; “Okay let’s go.”

He skimmed above the pavement as fast as he could while making sure she kept up. She was skipping along in an attempt to get out of the rain faster. He almost drifted into the road before remembering that a car might go right through him but would leave her a smear on the tarmac. Or make her magic burst out to save her, not a great idea what with the Ministry types so jittery these days.

Safely across the road Belle was eyeing the Leaky Cauldron like it might lunge and bite her. Without a second thought he floated straight through the door and totally unnecessarily wiped his boots on the mat. He huffed at his own daftness and frowned, why hadnae Belle walked through him yet? He stuck his head back through the door and found her dithering on the doorstep.

“Come on, it’s nae raining in ‘ere.”

She rolled her eyes at him and shove the door open. She didnae shiver when she walked through his ghostly body. He’d got her in oot of the weather just in time if she was so cold as to nae notice walking through him.

The bar was quiet, it always was these day what with Ole Snakeface at large. A few conversations stopped as he drifted in ushering Belle in front of him, but nobody said anything. It wasn’t as if a ghost was an uncommon sight in the Leaky Cauldron.

Tom was polishing glasses like always, he shot a fast glance at Belle, and raised his eyebrows before saying; “Evening Nosty, thought’d you’d be out scaring folk tonight.”

“Couldnae be arsed. Tom this is Belle, she needs a hot meal, if yer’d be so kind.”

Tom leaned over the bar and smiled at Belle. She shifted on her feet, almost trying to hide behind Nosty’s transparent body, as pointless as that was, but then she took another deep breath and said; “Good evening sir, it’s nice to meet you.”

Her head turned, and her jaw dropped as a tray of drinks hovered over the bar and sped off towards a table.

“Wow.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed, but he was smiling when Belle turned back; “Go sit by the fire little miss, I’ll bring some food over in a moment.”

She looked to Nosty who shooed her towards the chairs by the cheerfully flickering fire; “Go on with yer, just gonna have a word with Tom.”

He waited until she was out of earshot and leaned through the bar to whisper to Tom; “Get a message to Minerva will yer?”

Understanding dawned on Tom’s face; “Ah, another stray?”

“Sumthin’ like that yeah, tell her it’s Belle French.”

Belle had taken her coat, hat and gloves off and had carefully spread them on the arm of her chair so they could dry by the fire. He’d thought she was wee before but stripped of her bulky layers she was tiny. She wasn’t looking around in wonder at the bits of magic going on, her eyes were fixed on one of the photographs on mantlepiece.

He floated closer and saw that she was chewing on her bottom lip again.

“You alright?”

Very slowly she said; “My mom had a photo like that, that moved. It always made her sad when she looked at it. Dad tried to throw it out after she died, but I, erm, I got it out of the bin and hid it. It’s all I’ve got left of her.”

A moving photo? Sounds like her ma hadn’t cut all ties with the wizarding world. Before he could ask her anything about her mother Belle broke into a bright smile.

“What happened to your shoulder?”

Her smile was wide and bright and stopped right under her nose, not a trace of it in her eyes. Nosty knew a shut down when he saw one, the problem was the change of subject she had gone for wasn’t exactly age appropriate. Minerva would find a way to have his guts for garters if he told a ten-year-old kid about his final hari-kari for the boys. He roled his shoulders and changed his appearance so the silvery blood stains were gone; stupid fecker he should have done that before. The truth was not a good idea in present company, he lied through his teeth.

“Not sure, got knocked over by a car, all a bit of a blur.”

Tom ambled over with a tray of food; “Here we are little miss. Vegetable soup and sandwiches. Thought you’d need a nice hot chocolate on a night like this as well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Belle winced as she picked up the spoon, the raw scrapes on her palm and fingers from her fall were still oozing blood.

Tom tutted and glared at Nosty; “Why didn’t you say she was hurt?”

Nosty shrugged and muttered sorry as Tom pulled out his wand.

“Just hold your hands out, that’s it.”

Belle’s hands were shaking as she held them up for Tom. With a wave of his wand the scrapes and grazes healed. She flexed her hands and grinned; “Wow, thank you. Wish I could do that, I fall over all the time.”

Belle dug into the soup with gusto, so didn’t see Tom’s eyes flick over her. The sharp-eyed landlord took in the patched trousers, the too big jumper and her scuffed trainers. This was the first time Nosty had seen her without her bulky coat on and is was bloody obvious that she was half-starved. He was tempted to float back to the Parrot and scare the shite out of her da. If he had the money to piss away in the club he had the cash to see his daughter fed and clothed properly.

Tom caught his eye, he gave Nosty a tight-lipped smile; “Minerva will be here in half an hour.”

Nosty grinned, all teeth and malice. He could give Belle’s da a right scare, but Minerva McGonagall would put the fear of God above into him.


	9. Chapter 9

The best laid plans often go awry, and that night in late October many plans went aft gangly. Minerva did not visit the Leaky Cauldron to meet Belle. Sirius did not get to have a relaxing evening with his best friend and godson. Rumple did not enjoy his time listening to the radio. All of these little changes of plan rippled from one thwarted plan; that of the Dark wizard of a certain dark wizard whose chosen name had not been freely spoken in many years.

 

VOLDEMORT DEFEATED

 

It was impossible to turn your head and not see the headline. The papers were scattered everywhere, abandoned as owls delivered single sheet updates. Exhausted owls were perched along the bar gulping down water and owl treats before they swooped off again. Their tired hoots mingled with the constant chatter of the radio and the babble of stunned conversations.

“He attacked the Potters and the Longbottoms…”

“…was after their little boys according to this…”

“…why would he try to kill babies?”

“…there’s a prophecy behind this, bet you five galleons…”

“No deal, the Department of Mysteries will never confirm anything.”

“Frank Longbottom and Lily Potter are in St Mungos, bit rough, but they’ll be okay.”

“… Snape killed Bellatrix Lestrange…”

“…reckon he’ll get the DADA job at Hogwarts after this…”

“…nah potions are his real talent…”

 

Nosty was taking in the news as and when he could, but his focus was on wee Belle. A warning of an impending attack had arrived last night from Minerva, who had told him to keep Belle at the Cauldron where she would be safe. It had been easier than he’d expected, apparently Father of the flipping year wouldn’t notice if she wasn’t at home when he finally stumbled in from the Parrot. Peeves had taught Nosty a rather nasty trick with plumbing which he was going to use on Maurice French first chance he got.

“Is everything going to be alright?”

Nosty grinned at Belle. She read and reread every paper that had been delivered. All in all, she was taking the idea that she was a part of the wizarding world pretty well. He’d even coaxed a few details out of her about the strange things that she could do, the little bursts of magic that all wizarding kids showed; the bruises that had healed overnight, the torn clothes that had repaired themselves; the way the porridge box was never empty when her da forgot to buy food. All of it made Nosty angry, not at Belle, but at her da for being such a sack of shite.

“It’s gonna be a fuck of a lot better now.”

“Language Nosty!”

He cringed at the clipped tone. He’d been doing so well watching his language around the lassie, typical when he slipped up he got caught by Minerva. He turned around with a contrite smile on his face; “Morning Headmistress.”

She looked tired, but then so did everyone. Her arrival had not gone unnoticed and as a member of the Order of the Phoenix she was the best source of first-hand information they’d had since all of this started.

“Is it true?”

“Has he really gone?”

“What did he want with the Longbottom and Potter boys?”

Red sparks danced from Minerva’s wand and the clamour fell silent. She took a breath and said clearly; “The Minister will be making an official announcement in a few hours, but I can confirm that, that Voldemort is dead.”

The cheering was deafening. Minerva bent down so she was level with Belle; “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss French. And I think considering the hour, it is time we got you home to your father.”


	10. Chapter 10

Rumple had no one to reassure him. He’d not slept a wink, curled on his bed staring intently at the radio as if his eyes boring into it would make the news reports come faster. It hadn’t been until the third or fourth update, when the first reports of captured Death Eaters, began that he realized he could soon be hearing his parents’ names among the lists of the dead or captured.

He’d made it to the small bin in the corner of his room before he’d vomited. When the reporter announced that Malcolm Gold was dead he’d been to empty to feel anything. Hours had passed in a haze of numbness as more reports came in, that the Potters and the Longbottoms were the targets of the attacks, both families had young sons, babies really; the rumours of a prophecy that had apparently sparked the attacks; and finally, the news that You-Know-Who was dead. The fact that the reporter said Voldemort made it all the more real. Voldemort was dead, the wizarding war was over.

It was the sound of the front door slamming open that roused him from the stupor he had fallen into.

“Rumple!”

Mother! Mother was home. Without a thought he charged to the top of the stairs. Mother had a gash on her cheek and a blank look on her face. Rumple had never been more pleased to see her. As he started down the stairs she raised her wand.

“Avada Ke…”

“Pretego!”

The force of the Shield Charm threw him back up the stairs as a second spell disarmed Mother and bound her in ropes. The Shield Charm shimmered and vanished.

“You can come down now, son.”

The gruffy voice was from a wizard Rumple recognized from the Prophet, Mad-Eye Moody the Auror. The witch who had cast the Shield Charm looked familiar as well, but he couldn’t work out why.

“Mother? What’s going on?”

Even bound she was holding herself with haughty stiffness. She sneered at him.

“The Dark Lord is defeated. My husband is dead. I came to kill you in the hopes of something going right tonight”

Rumple was vaguely aware of the witch coming to stand beside him, but all he could see was the harsh, bitter glint in Mother’s eyes.

“I’ve never seen the point of you Rumple. You were a disappointment from the moment you were born.”

“Enough!”

Mad-Eye flicked his wand and Mother’s voice was silenced. It didn’t matter Rumple had a good idea of what she was mouthing at him, he’d heard it all before, but this was the first time she’d tried to kill him.

“Andromeda look after the boy. I’ll get her to Azkaban.”

The last glimpse Rumple had of his Mother before Moody apparited them away was of a snarl on her face as she spat silent abuse at him. The numbness that had filled him when he heard of Father’s death swamped him again. It took all of his effort to look up at the witch next to him. He did know her.

“You’re Mother’s cousin. You married a Mudblood.”

The gentle sad smile on her face hardened and for a split second the family resemblance to his Mother became very clear. Although he didn’t flinch Rumple readied himself to be jinxed, or maybe hit. She blinked, and her face returned to it gentle concern.

“We don’t use that word Rumple it’s rude.”

He nodded sluggishly; “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. Things are very different for you now, it’s going to take some getting used to.”

Different. The word was right, but it felt too small to encapsulate the upheaval of the last few hours. He tried to list everything that was different now and couldn’t get a grasp on any of it, the thoughts kept slipping away from him. He gave up, too tired to try and make his woolly head work properly.

A bright spark of panic flared in him and settled low in his stomach. He felt like he was going to be sick again. His parents were Death Eaters. Moody had just taken Mother to Azkaban. Was there a wizard prison for children?

“What are you going to do with me?”

“You’re going to come and live with us, my husband, our daughter and me.”

“You won’t want me. I’m a Squib.”

She carefully lay a hand on his shoulder; “It doesn’t matter if you are. You are family Rumple.”


	11. Chapter 11

The sky was getting lighter as Minerva apparated them to the courtyard at the bottom of Belle’s tower block.

“Take a moment dear. Apparition can make you feel rather sick the first time.”

Belle grinned at her; “No that was really good fun. Will I be able to learn how to do that?”

Minerva was impressed, not many witches and wizards of any age showed so much enthusiasm for Apparition.

“Not until you are seventeen. There is a course and a test you must take and pass before you are granted a license.”

“So, it’s like driving?”

“Aye, but withoot the insane petrol costs.”

“Nosty! How did you get here so fast?”

Nosty flipped in the air and hung upside down grinning at Belle; “Ghost, ane’t I?”

Minerva knew Nosty, he’d quite happily play the fool for the next few hours to distract Belle. The girl had withdrawn when Minerva had said it was time to get her home. As well intentioned as Nosty’s antics were, they were only delaying the necessary conversation.

“Belle? If you would lead the way, please?”

Minerva had some small experience with muggle housing; this tower block was by no means the most luxurious, but it was clean and well kept. The lift was in working order, and even smelled clean, but Belle walked by it without sparing it a glance and opened the door to the stairwell.

They climbed to the fourth floor in silence, even Nosty was quiet as he drifted close to Belle. At this early hour there were only a few people about, sleepily shuffling to or from work. One or two nodded at Belle, and Minerva drew a few raised eyebrows, but no one stopped to check Belle was alright with a strangely dressed stranger.

At the door of 447 Belle fumbled with her key. The door was wrenched open before she had a chance to put the key in the lock.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Maurice reached for Belle but snatched his hand back when he saw Minerva and Nosty. He glared at them and then turned around; “Suppose you’d better come in.”

He stomped down the hallway. Belle sighed and beckoned them inside. In the living room Maurice was standing in the middle of the floor with his arms crossed. He glared at Nosty and promptly chose to ignore him and turned his stare on Minerva. She’d been glared at by much worse than Maurice French in the past twelve hours, so it was very easy to return his anger with a cool politeness.

“Who are you then?”

“Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

He nodded curtly and glanced at Belle, who was standing by Nosty as far from her father as she could manage.

“She’s a witch, then?”

“Yes she is.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“She will receive her Hogwarts letter on her eleventh birthday and she will start school next September. There is a fund to help purchase…”

“No.”

Minerva was not accustomed to being interrupted so brusquely, perhaps she had offended him by suggesting that he could not afford Belle’s school supplies, before she could offer an apology Maurice continued; “She’s not going, so how are you going to stop her magic?”

“That cannot be done Mr French.”

He shrugged and dropped heavily into the recliner behind him, all with the smug air of a man who believes he is holding a winning hand.

“You have to, because she’d not going to that school of yours and you can’t risk breaking the Statute of Secrecy, can you?”

Minerva was flabbergasted. Never in all her years of contacting the parents of muggleborns had she had a parent demand that their child’s magic be taken away. Somehow it was worse coming from a Squib who had understanding of the wizarding world.

“But Papa why can’t I go to the school?”

He didn’t even look at her; “Be quiet Belle, this has nothing to do with you.”

“I would say that her magic and her education have everything to do with her.”

Maurice’s face turned an interesting shade of red.

“How dare you stand in my home and tell me how to raise my daughter. No bloody wizard was interested in this family when Colette was sick, but now this one is showing some magic you can’t get here fast enough can you?”

Belle hurried to her father’s side and placed a hand on his arm; “Papa no one could help Mama, she was too sick.”

Moe snarled and whipped his arm across Belle’s face. She staggered backward and tripped over a low-end table. With a shout Nosty surged forward, at the same moment Minerva tucked her hand into her wand pocket. The end table rose up and formed a shield between Belle and her father. Minerva looked sharply at Nosty who gave quick shake of his head, he’d not done that and neither had she, so that left…

Belle shakily got to her feet and pushed the table, so it floated to one side. Maurice was staring at his daughter with a look of disgusted contempt.

“You’re just like them. Get out.”

“Papa?”

He stood up, but his attempts to tower over Belle were hindered by the floating table which butted against his stomach in its efforts to protect Belle. He shoved at it angrily, but the tableshield was determined in its duty.

“You’re one of them! A bloody witch! They let your mother die because we weren’t magic enough. I don’t want you in my house any more. You’re no daughter of mine.”

Nosty had moved to offer what comfort he could. Belle was staring at her father in shock. Minerva was grateful the Nosty was choosing to hold his tongue for once, although at the moment she felt like employing some of his colourful phrases herself.

“I believe it would be best for Belle to come with me for now Mr French.” – she withdrew her wand from her pocket and produced a roll of parchment, - “Once you have calmed down simply write a message on this. I will receive it and we can continue this conversation.”

He snorted at the scroll and let it drop to the floor. Under the circumstances it was the best reaction Minerva could hope for.

“Belle, my dear, why don’t you go and pack a bag?”

Maurice thumped against the tableshield; “Oh no, she’ll take nothing out of my house. She’d nothing to do with me anymore.”

“You fucking worthless sack o’shite.”

Minerva couldn’t say she was surprised at Nosty’s outburst, nor at the way he lunged at the table pushing it with considerable force into Maurice’s chest. What did surprise her was the force of the shout that came from Belle.

“STOP!”

Nosty and Maurice froze, even Minerva found herself confined by the force of Belle’s instinctive magic for a second.

“Papa. I’m going with them because I am a witch and I need to go to school.” – she bent down and picked up the scroll from the carpet, - “Please keep this, and use it when you want to see me. You’re my Papa forever.”

Belle left the room with a dignity that tugged at Minerva’s heart. Nosty trailed after her, still casting dirty looks at Maurice. When they heard the front door open Minerva turned to Maurice.

“Well, go on get out. You’ve got what you came for.”

She deliberately stepped towards him; “Mr French, I am deeply sorry for the way your wife was turned away from St Mungos, and I can empathise with your grief, but you are a damnable fool to turn your back on your daughter.”

She turned on her heel and swept out.

“Oi! What am I supposed to do about this bloody table?”


	12. Chapter 12

Rumple had still been in shock when Mrs Tonks, who had told him to call her Dromada, had brought him to her home in the early hours of Sunday morning, almost asleep on his feet and unable to take in any of the details of the house other than the very comfortable, warm bed he’d been gently pushed towards.

He been woken hours later by a loud crash and the smell cooking. The memories of last night were nowhere to be found in his panic-stricken sleep muddled head. Convinced that he had overslept and that his parents would be mad he rolled out of bed and promptly ran headlong into a wardrobe. He thumped onto the carpet and peered at the wardrobe. That had never been there before, in fact he didn’t recognize it at all.

The gentle knock at the door made him jump, and was as confusing as the gentle voice that called out: “Rumple? Are you alright?”

Mother and Father always walked straight into his room. Mother and Father. His brain finally woke up enough to throw all of last night’s memories at him in a confused jumble of images. He shoved a knuckle into his mouth to stifle the whimper that was rising up his throat. The door opened, and he curled into a ball. There were no blows, no painful spells hurled at him, not even a raised voice. A gentle hand gathered him into a soft embrace, while another soothingly rubbed his back.

“Cry as much as you need to Rumple.”

Oddly enough Dromada’s word stopped his tears. He’d always been told not to cry; not to snivel; not to whine; being told that he could cry as much as he needed too was confusing. He eased out of Dromada’s embrace. She let him go and sat back on her heels.

“Oh, what happened to your head?”

He winced as he touched the bump forming on his forehead; “I, erm, I ran into the wardrobe. I’m sorry for the noise.”

She gave him a strange sad look; “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it was Dora falling over the chair that woke you up.” – She pushed herself to her feet and offered him her hand, - “Come on downstairs Ted’s better at healing spells than I am, we’ll get up fix up before we eat.”

The hug and permission to cry had confused him, but that she was going to heal him stunned him. Mother and Father had never bother with his scrapes and bruises.

“Oh, oh there’s no need to waste the magic. It’ll be alright.”

She pulled him to his feet; “I suppose, but it’ll be better if Ted heals it.”

She didn’t let go of his hand as she led him downstairs. It was kind of nice. He glanced around, trying not to stare openly. The house was very different from his parents’ house. It was brighter, more cluttered and to his eye a little bit untidy. As they reached the kitchen he said; “I, erm, I’m good at housework.”

Mr Tonks turned around from the stove with a pan of bacon in his hand; “Is that so? It’ll be nice to have someone around here who doesn’t complain about their turn at the dishes.”

He gave the little girl seated at the table a pointed look.

“Pfft. You complain more than I do Dad.”

Rumple’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe that a child would dare to speak to her father like that. His jaw dropped open when Mr Tonks just ruffled her bright green hair as he walked by and laughed. Mrs Tonks, Dromada flapped a hand at her husband.

“Here give me the pan, Ted. Rumple needs a bit of first aid. He bumped into the wardrobe.”

“Yep, waking up in a new place, it’ll happen.”

Rumple stood very still as Ted approached him. He panicked and closed his eyes when Ted picked up his wand from the table. A gentle hand brushed his hair away from his face and a whoosh of magic tickled over his forehead.

“There we go. All done. You okay, Rumple?”

He blinked his eyes open and nodded rapidly; “Yes. Thank you. Sir, I mean, Ted.”

Ted ruffled Rumple’s hair, just like he’d dome to Dora; “Come sit down and eat, son.”

It took less than five minutes to work out that Dora was a Metamorphmagus, she kept changing her nose between forkfuls. She frowned at Rumple; “You’re a hard one to make laugh. The pig nose normally gets a giggle from everyone.”

Rumple hadn’t realised that she was trying to make him laugh.

“I’m sorry. It was very good.”

Dora hummed at him and her nose changed into a long elephant trunk. Rumple put his hand to his mouth to hide his giggle. Dora looked triumphant.

“Knew I’d find one to make you laugh.”

She used the trunk to pick up a sausage and transfer it to her mouth.

“Dora. Please use you knife and fork not your nose.”

It sounded like Dromada had just told Dora off, but she just grinned and turned her nose back to normal. There was no angry tutting, or disapproving looks, they just chatted about Quidditch and their plans for the day. Today was going to be an easy at home day.

“Last night was busy enough for anyone.”

Rumple dipped his head and shuffled his food around his plate. His father was dead, and his mother was in prison and he was laughing and eating. He was a terrible son, just like they had always said. Something splashed onto his plate and he realised he was crying. More tears fell. He didn’t dare lift his head.

He felt movement around him and suddenly there was a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Go on son. Let it all out.”

For the first time in longer than he could remember Rumple howled and sobbed out loud.

His throat felt raw and his eyes were gritty and sore. A cup of pumpkin juice was pressed into his shaking hands. It slopped onto the table as he tried to take a sip.

“Here let me help. There we go. Take it easy. That’s it.”

Ted was smiling gently at him; “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rumple shook his head. He didn’t think he could say anything without crying again and he wasn’t sure he had any tears left in him right now. He looked around the table. Dromada and Dora were gone.

“The girls are upstairs, thought you needed a bit of space.”

The plates from their meal were still on the table. Rumple wiped his hand across his face and moved to stand up.

“I’ll wash up.”

His voice came out as a croak he hardly recognized. His hands were still shaking, making the plates rattle as he gathered them up. He managed to get them to the sink without accident. A quick look around and he had located everything he would need. He scrapped the scraps off into the bin while the sink filled. He knew Ted was watching him. It was suddenly very important that he did a good job. They had been very kind taking him in after, after everything, he had to prove that he could be useful.

Ted cleared his throat; “Dora is going to a pre-Hogwarts meet-up next week. Would you like to go as well?”

Rumple had heard about those on the radio. They were a way for wizardborns and muggleborns to get to know each other before they started school.

“That’s very kind of you, but there’s no point me going.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a Squib.”

Rumple looked over his shoulder to see what Ted’s reaction would be. Dromada had said it didn’t matter last night, but maybe she was just being kind.

The cup he’d been trying to put on the drainboard slipped from his hand and dropped to the floor. Rumple froze. Ted’s chair scraped against the floor as he jumped to his feet.

“Rumple! Where are you?”

Rumple didn’t move. How could Ted not see him? He was standing right here. Unsure what was going on he kept very still.

“Rumple? You’re not in any trouble. It’s just a cup.”

Ted was squinting at him, well squinting in the direction of the sink. Dromada hurried into the kitchen.

“Ted what’s wrong? Where’s Rumple?”

She couldn’t see him either? What was happening?

“He dropped a cup and disappeared.”

“But I’m right here.”

Both Ted and Dromada jumped. They were looking at him now. Rumple shifted awkwardly and bent down to pick up the cup for something to do.

“It’s chipped. I’m sorry. I can probably fix it if you have some glue.”

“Rumple, where did you go?”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I was standing right here all the time. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Dromada rushed across and hugged him, which surprised him so much he almost dropped the cup again. Ted dropped back into his chair and started chuckling.

“I’ll tell you something Rumple, there’s no way you are a Squib.”


	13. Chapter 13

Dear Ruby,

It was nice to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron the other day. This is the first time I have ever send a letter by owl. Irma says I have to warn you Bebo isn’t to have owl treats as they upset his stomach.

Thanks for helping me buy clothes, wizard stuff is so different from muggle stuff. I can’t believe all of the pockets in my new robes! And my cloak is so swishy and warm.

I’m still getting used to magic, but I love it and can’t wait to get my own wand. Have you ever travelled by Floo Powder? I was so sick afterwards, all those fireplaces whizzing by your face, Ick. We’re Apperiting to Middlesbrough for the pre-Hogwarts day, so at least I won’t be puking when we get there.

I’ve put some pictures of my room at Irma’s in with this letter. The quilt your Ganny help me pick out looks great, doesn’t it? By the window there is the perfect place to curl up and read, you can see all the way over the moors on a clear day, but it was raining when I took the photos.

Sorry about the faces Nosty is pulling, he was in a silly mood. He’s staying home when we all met up in Middlesbrough, but he’s said that if anyone in mean to me he’ll haunt them, and he says he’ll do the same for you if anyone has a go about you being a werewolf.

I found a copy of Little Red Riding Hood for you to borrow. I’ll bring it with me, (Bebo can’t carry too much). I can’t believe you’ve never heard that story. I’ve finished Tales of Beadle the Bard, they are really good, just like you said.

Papa hasn’t written to me yet. I think Nosty and Irma are worried about that, but Papa can stay mad for a long time and to be honest I like it here better. Nobody shouts at me here.

We’ll be in Middlesbrough at nine o’clock. I can’t wait to see you again,

Lots of Love

Belle


	14. Chapter 14

Irma adjusted her hat and smiled as she watched Belle put on her boots. She was so excited for today that she’d levitated the cups at breakfast. The coffee stains on the table cloth were worth they wide smile on her face.

“Do you have everything?”

Belle patted her pockets just as Nosty drifted down the stairs with a book in his hand.

“Looking for this?”

Belle took the copy of Little Red Riding Hood from him; “Thanks Nosty,” – she tucked it into one of her many pockets and smiled at Irma, - “Okay I’m ready.”

Nosty drifted in front of her; “Now remember what I said. Anyone gives you or Ruby hassle you let me know. I’ll set ‘em right.”

“You won’t be lonely one your own today, will you?”

He gave her a toothy grin; “Nae way lassie, I’ve got a little job to do, that’ll keep me oot of trouble.”

Irma had a good idea what Nosty’s ‘little job was, but she’d rather be able to deny all knowledge in case things got out of hand. She hooked Belle’s hand onto her arm and Apperited them to Middlesbrough.

They appeared in the church hall causing Father MacAvoy to jump slightly. His reaction wasn’t as bad as the first time Irma had Apperited in front of him, the poor man had fallen on his backside in shock that time. It had taken several nips from his hip flask for him to calm down. She couldn’t help but glance at his breast pocket, the outline of his flask was still there, but it no longer contained cheap whiskey. Joseph had developed a taste for pumpkin juice and she was more than happy to keep him supplied with the drink. He’d sworn off alcohol since he became responsible for young Graham.

“Good morning Irma, you’re the first to arrive, and this must be Belle?”

Belle shook his offered hand and looked around. The church hall was decorated in the same type chipped magnolia paint that had covered the walls of Belle’s school. On one wall was a large fireplace that looked out of place in the room. A flash of green fire flared inside it, rapidly followed by a blur of red.

“Ruby!”

Ruby jumped out of the fireplace and brushed as smudge of ash from her sleeve.

“Hey Belles!”

The two girls hugged as Father MacAvoy hurried over to the fireplace and helped Ruby’s Granny out.

“Good morning Mrs Lucas, erm, would you be able to help me with the tea urn? It’s only pouring green tea with milk for some reason.”

Martha Lucas flicked ash from her robes and nodded curtly; “Aha, yes it can be a bit touchy first thing in the morning, let’s have a look.”

She nodded hello to Irma and bustled off to the reluctant tea urn with Father MacAvoy on her heels.

Irma glanced around and found Graham stood by the tea urn pulling a face at the concoction it had poured. He waved at Ruby and then was distracted by the arrival of Arthur Weasley and his two eldest boys. More people were Apperiting in, now was the perfect time to introduce Belle to the others who would be part of her year at Hogwarts.

Irma strolled over to where Belle and Ruby were already chatting with Graham and the Weasley boys.

“Good morning Arthur. What’s Charlie got there?”

“Moring Irma, it’s salamander. He wouldn’t come today unless he could bring it with him.”

A loud crack echoed around the hall; “Ah the Knight bus is here.”

Within moments more people were streaming into the hall, most of the adults making their way to the tea urn that Granny now had in working order. Irma watched as Dora Tonks dragged a shy boy along behind her. Arthur had been watching the new arrivals too.

“Is that the Gold boy?”

“Yes, I believe it is. You heard about that I take it?”

Arthur cleaned his glasses slowly on a handkerchief; “Yes, bad business, looks like Dora is bringing him out of his shell a bit.”

 

Rumple trailed behind Dora, she’d opted for long bright blue hair today and it kept flapping across his face as she pulled him along. She skidded to a stop; he bumped into her shoulder and had to blow some of her hair out of his face. Once the blue was clear from his eyes he saw two shocks of bright ginger hair bent over a tough looking metal crate.

“Bill, Charlie, this is Rumple Gold, Rumple, Bill and Charlie Weasley. Bill will be in your year at Hogwarts.”

The boys looked up and grinned at him. Rumple managed to stammer out a hello.

“Gold? Your parents were Death Eaters, right?”

Rumple’s throat went dry. This had been a terrible idea, of course everyone was going to know about his parents, they had been all over the Daily Prophet for the past week.

Charlie punched him lightly on the shoulder; “Hey don’t worry about it. Not like you get to pick your family is it?”

Bill chuckled; “Yeah, if you could we would have picked Great Aunt Muriel.”

Rumple laughed a bit, maybe this would be alright after all.

“Right, this is Graham, he lives here with Father MacAvoy, he’ll be in Charlie’s year.”

The quiet dark-haired boy nodded at him as Dora turned to the others in the little group.

“This is Ruby. She’ll be in your year too, that’s her Granny over by the tea urn.”

Rumple couldn’t tell which Ruby’s Granny was because of the crowd around the tea urn. Ruby brushed some of Dora’s wild blue hair behind her ear.

“Wotcha Dora, loving the locks today.”

Dora bobbed a silly curtsey and Ruby turned to look Rumple up and down; “So Rumple, guessing you got stuck with a stupidly long wizarding name as well hey?”

He nodded, “Yeah, Rumplestiltskin.”

Ruby’s eyes went wide, and she whistled; “Wow and I thought Rubernocta was bad.”

Graham snorted; “Not as bad as Nymphadora.”

He grunted and doubled over as Dora’s elbow connected with his ribs. Rumple grinned, he’d learnt not to call Dora by her full name very quickly, that elbow of hers was very pointy.

Behind Ruby was a small girl with wavy brown hair and very blue eyes. Ruby pulled her forward into the circle and said; “This is Belle French. She lives with Madam Pince now.”

From the grateful look that Belle shot Ruby Rumple figured there was more to her story than her friend was letting on.

“I’ll be starting Hogwarts in September too.”

“Anyone else coming today?”

“Yeah, Myron and Kirley will be along later. Mary Margaret had the flu, and the Nolan twins are grounded. Flying their broomsticks in front of Muggles, idiot show-offs.”

Rumple was half-listening to the others, but most of his attention was on the box on the table in front of Charlie. He cocked his head and listened to the grumbling coming from inside.

“What’s in the box Charlie?”

“A salamander, he’s a bit peaky today thought, not sure why.”

“He says the coal you’ve been feeding him doesn’t agree with him.”

Six pairs of eyes turned on him and Rumple wanted to disappear, but Dora had grabbed his hand.

“You can talk to him?”

The salamander poked it’s head out of the crate and blinked at Rumple.

“Please tell them about the coal. I can smell the good stuff they’ve got here. Ask if I can have some of that, please?”

Rumple looked around at everyone, nobody looked disgusted with his talent, in fact they looked impressed. Very slowly he said; “He’d like some of the coal from here please. He says it smells good.”

“Wow, that’s awesome Rumple!”

“So cool.”

“Go on Rumple ask him something else.”

 

Their excitement had come to the attention of the adults who were looking over to see what the fuss was about. Rumple really wanted to vanish, but Dora was hanging on to his hand while she had a whispered conversation with Belle. Belle slipped around behind him and took hold of his other hand, just as Dora let go and hurried off to her father.

“Dora didn’t want you disappearing.”

He couldn’t bring himself to return her warm smile or to shake her hand off so he could vanish. Mr Weasley, Madam Pince and Ted wandered over to them.

“What’s going on here then?”

Charlie was bouncing on his toes; “Dad, Rumple can talk with lizards. My salamander doesn’t like the coal we’ve been feeding him.”

Mr Weasley blinked a few times; “Doesn’t like the coal we’ve been feeding him, hey?”

Mr Weasley was smiling at him, but Rumple was shaking now; “I’m sorry. I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to. Please don’t hurt him!”

Charlie defensively hugged the crate where the salamander was curled up. Bill, Ruby and Graham stepped in front of him as if there was a chance of the adults moving to hurt the lizard. Dora and Belle were by Rumple’s sides, all glaring at the adults.

It was Ted Tonks who calmly said; “No one is going to hurt the salamander Rumple. That’s another cool talent you’ve got there, son.”

“It’s, it’s not a bad thing?”

Irma had an inkling as to the source of Rumple’s fears. Parseltongue was generally viewed as the mark of a dark wizard, but he wasn’t a Parselmouth. She smiled at Rumple and said; “There is nothing wrong with your skill at all. I correspond with several witches and wizards who a Dragonspeakers, just like yourself.”

Belle tapped him on his arm; “See there’s a name for it and everything. Do you think you can teach us some?”

The children gathered around Rumple asking for a lesson. He grinned and said; “We need to get him some coal first.”

Father MacAvoy was happy to provide some coal and organize a scuttle full for the Weasley’s to take home with them. Graham rolled his eyes as MacAvoy negotiated for Mrs Weasley to knit a jumper for him.

“Always worrying about me being cold,” – he grinned at the salamander, - “not going to be a problem today is it?”

Munching on it’s new coal the salamander was happily glowing giving off a pleasant heat. Although everyone was looking at the salamander Rumple was the centre of attention as he translated and tried to teach the other some simple words. It wasn’t easy, because the words just made sense in his head. It was Belle who came up with the idea of asking the lizard to say something simple like ‘hello’ and for Rumple to repeat it so the others could hear it and try themselves.

By lunchtime Rumple was feeling a bit overwhelmed, he wished he could curl up and have a nap like the salamander had. Everyone was talking about Quidditch as they ate. When Ruby and Bill had gotten into a heated debate about the changes of the Holyhead Harpies winning the league, Rumple had ambled away to a quiet corner to eat his pumpkin patsy.

He was looking out of the window at the bare garden behind the church hall when Belle joined him.

“How you doing? It’s just you looked a bit overwhelmed.”

“I’m not used to so many people.”

She perched on the windowsill next to him.

“Dora said that you thought you were a Squib.”

Rumple looked down at his fingers as the familiar twisting emotions that came with thinking about his parents rose up inside him. Dromada had suggest that he take a deep breath and if he didn’t want to talk about them then he could say so. Belle was nice and kind. Looking at her he decided he could talk about it a bit.

“Mother and Father always said I was because I didn’t do anything magical enough for them. They were very disappointed in me.”

Belle gave a wry laugh; “My Papa would have been over the moon if I had no magic. Him and Mama were both Squibs, he hates magic and now I’m a witch he won’t talk to me.”

There was more to her story than that, he knew there was, but she wasn’t pushing him for the grim details of his own, so he accepted her words as they were.

“Is Madam Pince part of their families, is that why you’re living with her now?”

Belle shrugged; “No. I’d don’t know how I’d find who their parents were. Papa never talked about his family. Mama had a picture, a wizard one that moved, but I had to leave it at home when I moved to Irma’s house.”

He looked out of the window as he considered her words. A figure in blue had just apperited into the garden.

“Hey, I bet she could help you.”

Before he could explain further, Granny Lucas swore; “What is she doing here?”

Ruby ran over to the widow and growled. Belle couldn’t see that face of the woman that had provoked this reaction because her hood was still drawn up.

“Who is she?”

“Madam Bleu. Ministry busybody who has to check on me to make sure I’m not nibbling the rest of you. Can’t have loads of werewolves starting Hogwarts next September.”

Father MacAvoy had hurried out to great Madam Bleu while Irma and Ted tried to calm Granny down. Apparently, this was the third ‘surprise’ visit Madam Bleu had made in the last month and Granny was getting sick of her.

Rumple was confused, that wasn’t why Madam Bleu had visited his parents earlier in the year. He wasn’t a werewolf, maybe she looked after lots of different things at the Ministry.

Mr Weasley had started a game of exploding snap, which to be fair was a good distraction for the kids until Madam Bleu stepped inside and lowered her hood.

Belle gasped and blurted out; “But you’re in my Mama’s picture! You’re her Great-Aunt Fay!”


	15. Chapter 15

Squib Killer Imprisoned

Fay Bleu, former under-secretary of werewolf relations, has been sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkabahn by the Wizzengmot. The scandal broke last month when a young Squib-born, whose can not be named because of her age, identified Fay Bleu from a photo her mother had kept when she left the wizarding world.

The full horrors of Madam Bleu’s trail of destruction can be found on pages eight and nine.

Minister for Magic Albus Dumbledore is expected to officially appoint Severus Snape as the new werewolf liaison later today. Snape’s appointment has been welcomed by the werewolf community as he is one of the few wizards capable of brewing the complex Wolf’s Bane Potion…

 

Rumple carefully patted Belle’s back as she read the paper. He was getting better at offering comfort to his friends. That first day when Madam Bleu had laughed in her face at the church hall he hadn’t know what to do. His awkwardness at the sight of Belle’s tears had made him blurt out everything he knew about Madam Bleu; the visits to his parents’ house to discuss ‘placing him in a suitable environment’; the requests for ‘donations’ in exchange for ‘properly updated records’.

He still shivered at the memory of the moment when Madam Bleu’s visits and his Mother’s attempt to kill him all joined up in his head. The service that Madam Bleu was offering had sounded a lot like a discreet killer for hire, which as it turned out was exactly what she did.

He’d lost control of his Obfuscaster powers and had vanished from sight while he panicked about that. Thankfully Nosty had appeared with the photo of Belle’s Mama and Madam Bleu and set off an argument that ended up with Mr Weasley and Ted having to restrain Madam Bleu until the Aurors arrived.

Belle tossed the paper away and heaved a sigh. Rumple kept rubbing her back and smiled proudly when she leaned against his shoulder. It had turned out that Colette’s family were from Canada, Belle had already received letters from some of them who were planning on visiting next summer. Maurice was still refusing to speak to her and wouldn’t tell anyone anything about his family.

It had been a rough few weeks, but today was going to be amazing. Today was Belle’s birthday and she had invited him and Ruby to come to Diagon Alley with her, so she could buy her wand.

“Ruby’s late.”

“It was a full moon last night.”

“Ah, okay.”

Irma strolled over to them; “Okay I’m sorry to say but Ruby won’t be coming. She’s a little under the weather today.”

Belle and Rumple shared a look and shrugged. They knew there was a chance that Ruby wouldn’t be able to make it because of what she called a ‘bad hair day’. Belle had offered to postpone her shopping trip, but Ruby wouldn’t hear of it.

“Belles, you buy your first wand on your eleventh birthday. It’s tradition.”

That Irma had insisted on taking the day off work to take them to Ollivander’s had re-enforced the importance of this day. She sat up straight and smoothed her robes down. Before sagging with a sigh; “I’m nervous.”

Irma chuckled; “That’s normal, I thought I was going to throw up the day I bought my wand. Come on, it’ll be alright you’ll see.”

Belle still looked anxious, so Rumple stood up and offered her his hand. Together they followed Irma out of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley.

Ollivander’s was dim, dusty and apparently empty when they stepped inside. Irma chuckled softly to herself as Ollivander rattled into view hanging on to his rickety ladder. He always liked to make an entrance, but there was nothing wrong with a little drama for such an important day.

Drama was not in short supply. Ollivander had quickly ruled out anything with a dragon heartstring core after the first two wands with that core had flown out of Belle’s hand. With a unicorn tail core, she had almost taken Rumple’s eye out when a flock of angry birds erupted from the wand. Ollivander didn’t appear worried, he’d gleefully returned it to its box and snatched another form the many shelves that lined the shop.

“Phoenix feather and holly. Ten inches, nice and flexible.”

Belle wrapped her fingers around the wand and the resulting explosion shook the dust from the shelves and set fire to the counter. Irma doused the flames as Ollivander clapped his hands together and hurried off into the back.

Belle whispered to Rumple; “He’s a little bit mad, isn’t he?”

“All the best people are Miss French.”

He carefully placed a box yellowed with age onto the counter.

“Now Ollivanders have been making wands for thousands of years, and while I myself take a traditional approach and only use the Supreme Cores for the wands I create, my grandfather took a more experimental approach.”

He lifted the lid from the box. Belle flexed the fingers of her wand hand as they tingled. Ollivander’s sharp eyes caught the tiny movement and he smiled.

“Aha, yes. I think this might be the one for you.”

He slid the box across the counter. Belle took a deep breath and lifted the wand from the cushion inside. A warm light glowed from the wand and the shop filled with the scent of woodland and parchment.

“Yes, yes, yes that it the wand for you. A very unusual combination. Centaur tail and oak. Very unusual. Once you are settled in at school would you be kind enough to write to me and let me know how you are getting on with it?”

Belle nodded; “I don’t start until September, sir.”

Ollivander airily waved a hand; “There is no hurry young lady, once you have settled in.”

As Belle dug out the seven galleons for her wand. Rumple edge up to the counter and asked; “Mr Ollivander, sir? Do you have a lizard in your shop?”

Ollivander leaned over the counter until his pale silvery eyes were level with Rumple’s scared brown ones.

“When is your eleventh birthday young man?”

“Not for another eleven days, sir.”

“And you are a Dragonspeaker, are you not Mr Gold?”

Rumple nodded. Ollivander suddenly sprang away from the counter and rushed into the back of the shop.

“Did I upset him?”

Irma shook her head; “I don’t think so.”

They could hear Ollivander rummaging around in the back, muttering to himself. After a long while he reappeared with a very dusty box in his hand.

“It would appear today is a day for unusual sales. It this where the singing is coming from Mr Gold?”

Rumple nodded. The faint sound he’d been hearing while Belle tried out the wands was louder now and soothing. Ollivander plucked the lid from the box and Rumple sighed, that wand was beautiful.

“Go on them give it a try. Oh, I know it’s not your birthday yet, but wands care little for such things as calendars. The wand chooses the wizard Mr Gold, and this one I believe has chosen you.”

Belle gave him a little shove; “Go on.”

After what had happened with the first wands Belle tried Rumple was nervous, but the wand’s singing made him feel safe. He carefully eased it out of the box and held in it his wand hand. Whereas the right wand in Belle’s hand had produced a warm light, Rumple wand settling into his hand fill the room with golden sparkles and a brief snatch of lizard song.

“Ten and a half inches, oak, with a core of dragon horn from a very rare chameleon dragon. Another of my grandfather’s experiments. Very interesting. I believe we can expect very interesting things from the two of you.”

It wasn’t until they had paid for their wands and left the shop that Rumple thought to wonder how Mr Ollivander had known his name.


	16. Chapter 16

They had made their way back to the Tonkses house under the pretence of seeing Rumple home. He’d been so distracted by his unexpected wand purchase he’d almost forgotten what the plan was for Belle’s surprise.

He remembered the signal and tripped over the umbrella stand on his way in.

“I must have caught Dora’s clumsiness.”

Belle helped him up and he managed to get her in front of him as they stepped into the living room.

“Surprise!”

Belle jumped backwards and landed on his toe. His toe got more crushed as Ruby rushed forward to hug Belle. He hobbled in after them laughing at the look of wonder on Belle’s face.

“A birthday party? For me?”

“Of course it’s for you. Eleven’s a big one for a witch. How did the wand buying go? Sorry I couldn’t make it to Diagon Alley, very bad hair morning. I helped Granny make your cake though.”

The cake was in the shape of a pile of books and had eleven candles floating above it.

Belle was barely taking in Ruby’s chatter. There was a huge banner along one wall. The letters were made up of streamers that first wrote ‘Happy 11th Birthday’ and the squiggled around to spell her name. Balloons floated in the air slowly changing colours. Everyone was there, Ted, Dromada and Dora Tonks obviously, Graham, and Father MacAvoy, all the Weasleys, Ruby’s Granny, Minerva McGonagall, and Nosty.

He floated through one of the colour changing balloons; “So, what do you reckon lassie? Not bad hey? Figured we better have the party here, not a lot of room at home what with all the books.”

Belle and Irma rolled their eyes at the same time and both said; “We don’t have that many books!”

Everyone in the room answered with; “Yes you do!”

Belle looked at her three best friends with tears in her eyes. Nosty, Ruby and Rumple moved closer to her with concerned looks on their faces.

“It’s okay. Happy tears. This is amazing guys. Thank you.”

She pulled all three of them into a hug which ended very quickly because hugging a ghost made the three live ones shiver.

“Just think guys, this time next year we’ll be Hogwarts students.”

Nosty snorted; “Don’t go wishing the time away just yet, Yer’ll be wishing yer were still fancy-free when yer start getting homework and tests and stuff.”

“There’s nine months to go, Nosty. We’ve got loads of time to relax before then.”


	17. Chapter 17

As it was those nine months flew by and so much happened that it was August before they realised.

In January Rumple became briefly famous after Rita Skeeter penned a vicious article questioning the sense of allowing the children of the imprisoned Death Eaters to attend Hogwarts. She’d tried to talk to the students already at the school but had been firmly removed from the premises by a furious Minerva McGonagall.

Skeeter had managed to corner Rumple in Diagon Alley. She bombarded him with questions about the horrible things his parents had done until he was so terrified that his Obfucaster powers kicked. He’d vanished himself and half of the wall of Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. It was the first time he’d ever vanished anything other than himself and it took him hours to reappear, Florean Fortescue was so happy to have his wall back that he gave Rumple and his friends free ice creams for a month. Albus Dumbledore had been so angry he’d revoke Skeeter’s journalist license and had fined her one thousand galleons.

 

In March Father Joseph MacAvoy resigned from the priesthood and became the official Muggle liaison for the Ministry of Magic. He and Graham moved into the newly built pre-Hogwarts School. Officially it was called Ravenserodd after the old village it was built on, but the kids had started calling it Pigletwarts since it prepared them for Hogwarts and the name stuck.

 

Nosty went missing for the entire of April. He wouldn’t talk about what he’d been doing, but in early May there was a small announcement in the Prophet stating that for the first time in centuries a ghost had been exorcized. Belle had wrapped herself in thick blankets and tried to hold him as he silently cried about someone named Hiero. By the next day he was back to his normal boisterous self and they didn’t mention it again.

 

In the middle of May Granny Lucas’ old broomstick finally failed. Unfortunately, Granny had been flying at the time. Thankfully she’d been coming into land and had crashed into a small tree, only falling a short distance to the ground. She’d spent a few days in St Mungos before being declared the fittest lady of her age the healers had seen in a long while. Ruby, Belle and Rumple had poured over Which Broomstick to try and find her a new broom. Before they could make their suggestions to Granny Mad-Eye Moody had turned up at her house with a broom made by the only broom maker he trusted, featuring several adaptations to make flying more comfortable for Granny. His artificial eye fell out of his head when Granny kissed his check to say thank you.

 

In June Belle and Rumple got to see their first Quidditch match. The Holyhead Harpies beat the Tutshill Tornados and won the league. The match lasted fifteen hours and both Belle and Rumple lost their voices from cheering so much for so long. They both slept for a full day afterwards and talked about very little else for most of the next week.

 

July drifted by in a lazy haze of warm weather and blue skies. During their days at Pigletwarts they got Joseph MacAvoy on a broom for the first, and according to him, the only time ever. Dora spent the month with a rainbow mohawk because she could. Belle and Ruby experimented with Lockhart’s Hair Colours for Stylish Witches and Wizards. Ruby ended up keeping her red streaks, but Belle decided that the neon blue was not for her. Rumple’s shaggy brown hair wouldn’t take any of the colours except for the silver which for some reason never washed out properly and left him with a handful of silver strands at his temples. It took a bit of getting used to, but he decided it didn’t look that bad, so he never bothered booking into Lockhart’s salon to get them fixed.

 

And then suddenly it was August and they were all shopping for school robes, quills and ink, trunks, potion kits, cauldrons and the million other things they needed for their first year at Hogwarts.

On the twenty-ninth Ruby’d had a panic and unpacked her truck because the school started the day before the full moon. After a talk with Remus Lupin and Severus Snape she had calmed down and repacked her trunk ready to start school with everyone else even if she was going to be a little groggy for the first few days.


	18. Chapter 18

September the first appeared out of nowhere. Logically they had all known it was coming as August rushed through its twenties, but it still came as a surprise.

Rumple still wasn’t comfortable in crowds. He didn’t take in anything of King’s Cross other than the babble of so many people. He kept his eyes on the floor and tight grip on Ted’s hand and was through the barrier on to platform nine and three quarters before he knew it. There was bustle and noise here as well, but there were also his friends.

Dora bounced in front of him, her hair was sporting the four colours of the Hogwarts houses today, he hadn’t told anyone, but the green was making him nervous. She poked him in the chest.

“You write to me okay? And get Belle to put that talking spell on the letters, like a Howler but without the shouting because your hand writing is awful.”

He stuck his tongue out at her and pulled her in for a brief hug; “I’ll send an owl this weekend, promise.”

Ruby raced up to them, almost knocking over three fifth years students in the process. She grabbed Rumple’s arm and panted out; “Belle’s dad is here!”

Rumple broke into a run from a standing start. He couldn’t see Belle in the crowd, but he could see Nosty floating above people’s heads, so he made for him, dodging around people with a constant stream of hasty apologies falling from his mouth.

Irma was standing at Belle’s side staring at Maurice French. When Rumple and Ruby arrived, she stepped in front of Belle, so they could take up positions on either side of their friend. Nosty was floating behind them, a manic glare on his face and all of his silvery blood stains showing. The battle lines were draw and it was up to Maurice French to make the first move.

“I want to talk to Belle. Alone.”

That was a stupid opening move. Rumple and Ruby took hold of Belle’s hands and Irma drew herself up to her full height.

“You can speak to Belle here, but I suggest you are quick. She has a train to catch in ten minutes.”

Maurice snorted; “To go to that school with all manner of freaks and beasts? Werewolves and Death Eater kids, so I’ve been told.”

Ruby growled, and Rumple gripped his wand. Belle lifted her head and jutted her chin at her father.

“They are my friends and I’ll ask you not to speak of them in that tone.”

He made his next stupid move by stepping forward and reaching for Belle. Irma’s wand appeared in her hand and almost jabbed him in the eye. He raised his hand to bat it away and found himself with a face full of snarling ghost.

“I’d nae do that if I were you matey. Yer wanna talk to Belle then say yer piece and feck off.”

Nosty eased to Maurice’s side and hissed in his ear; “Tick tock dearie.”

Maurice glared at Belle; “Is this the sort of life you want? Ghost and witches who’ll threaten your own father? Weirdos and freaks? I raised you better than that girl! I’ve given you time to get this nonsense out of your system, to have your little rebellion, now enough is enough. Get over here we are going home!”

Belle held her father’s eye for a long moment, and then looked at Ruby and Rumple in turn. The noise of the busy platform seemed to fade away as she gave them both a smile, before squaring her shoulders and meeting her father’s eye again.

“No.”

Maurice’s face turned red; “What did you say to me, girl?”

“I said no. I am not coming with you. You will always be my father, and nothing can change that, but I will choose my own way in the world and I choose Hogwarts and my friends.”

As one the three of them turned and climbed on board the Hogwarts Express. Belle was shaking like a leaf. Rumple rubbed her back and counted her through the breathing exercises she helped him with when he had a panic attack.

“Has he gone?”

Ruby had been keeping watch out of the window; “Yeah, the guards took him off the platform. Irma and Nosty are standing with Granny and the Tonkses now.”

She shoved the widow down and the three of them leaned out to wave goodbye to their families.

“Send an owl to let us know what house you are in!”

“Have fun and stay out of trouble!”

“Be nice to the House Elves!”

“Say hello to Hagrid for us!”

Along the platform families were shouting similar things and hurriedly handing forgotten items through the windows. The whistle blew, and the train began to chuff away from the platform Nosty cartwheeled along beside it until in left the station drawing laughter from the other carriages.

Ruby closed the window and they flopped on to the seats.

“So, this is it. We’ve off to Hogwarts. By tonight we’ll be Sorted.”

Rumple chewed on his thumbnail; “I’m worried I’m going to be in Slytherin.”

“A lot of people are.”

They jumped at the strange voice and found a thin dark-haired boy stood in the doorway of their carriage.

“I’m Felix Rosier, Slytherin. My Father was a Death Eater. Can I talk to you all for a moment?”

They all knew the name Rosier, he’d been in the papers last year right along side Rumple’s parents. Belle and Ruby looked to Rumple and nodded when he did.

Felix gave them a nervous smile and took a deep breath; “Thank you. Everyone is worried about being Sorted into Slytherin, because of what our parents did, and what Slytherin House has stood for for centuries. We can’t change the past, but we, the kids of Death Eaters and the other Slytherins, we’re in control of our future. Everyone is welcome in Slytherin, muggleborn, half-blood, pure-blood, anyone. We’ve got the Inter-House Common Room now, but everyone from any House is always welcome under the lake. Oh, that wasn’t a scary threat, our common room is partly under the lake, you get great view of the giant squid.

Erm, anyway, erm, the Sorting Hat will give you a choice, if you don’t want to be in Slytherin that’s up to you. If you do join us, you’ll be very welcome. Erm, that’s all really. Thanks for listening.”

He turned to go, but stopped when Rumple said; “You giving this speech to every first year?”

Felix turned back; “Yeah all us Slytherins are. Slytherin has got to change, and we thought it would be a start to show people that we might have the names, but we’re not our parents, we can choose to be better.”

He gave Rumple a tight smile and left.

Ruby stood up and slid the carriage door closed. She sat herself down and fussed with the red streaks in her hair before she said; “So Rumple…”

Belle was looking at him as well.

“Well, it’s up to you two. I mean my whole family has been in Slytherin, except for Sirius, and a couple of other cousins…”

Ruby shrugged; “We’re mostly Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw in mine. To be honest I’ll go where you two go.”

Belle bit her lip; “As far as I know I’ve no history at Hogwarts. Irma says the same as Felix, that the Sorting Hat will let us choose. How many Piglets do you think are going to choose Slytherin?”

Ruby snorted and Rumple shook his head.

Belle did that determined thing with her chin again; “Felix was right. We are not out parents. I’ll go green, if you two will.”

Ruby twirled her finger around the red streak in her hair and grinned; “I reckon I’d look good in green.”

Rumple rubbed his fingers together. He didn’t need to look up to know that his friends were waited for his decision. The urge to vanish rose up in him but he pushed it back. He was sitting here with a squib-born and a werewolf, his pure-blood obsessed family would be spitting feathers. He raised his head and looked at Belle and Ruby.

“I am a son of the noble houses of Black and Gold if anyone is going to help change Slytherin House for the better it should be me and I would be honoured if my two best friends would stand with me.”

There was a shriek of joy. Rumple was buried under Belle and Ruby as they dived on him for a hug.

They were still hours away from their Sorting, but Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had no idea what was about to hit it.


End file.
